


Chipped Nails

by Monella



Series: Sweet, broken girl [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Abusive ex WILL get his head handed to him, Alienation, Biospecialist - Freeform, Controlled Outbursts, Don't hurt those Ward cares about, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Flashbacks, Hurt/Comfort, Hydra?, If this becomes a series., Just listen to her Coulson, Manipulation, May turn into a recovery series, Maybe later in the series., Mostly Jemma Central, Onesided FitzSimmons, Recovery, Team Bonding, Ward doesn't know how to care, What Hydra, You shouldn't hurt the heart of the team, and yet... he does, past abusive relationship, team fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-25
Updated: 2014-06-24
Packaged: 2018-01-24 11:59:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1604360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monella/pseuds/Monella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They had never considered sweet, reliable Simmons' life in much detail. Finding out the well known agent they were being made to work with had a past involving Simmons came as a surprise. Putting down her hesitance around him as bitterness though was a mistake, none of them automatically questioning the fact Jemma flinched away and seemed to hover the furthest corners of the room when he was around like a beaten animal. </p><p>Almost too slowly, they started to work out there was something severely wrong in Jemma's past and it had come to find her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Warning Signs

**Author's Note:**

> **Shorter Summary:** The team being forced to work with her ex would have been bad enough even if Jemma hadn't had the scarring on her back from one of his outbursts. Skin hardened in spots from hits and instinctually flinching back even at the sight of him. He was well respected and a good agent- yet even just his presence had the power of leaving her hanging back. In truth, they all should have noticed earlier.

 

* * *

 **Emotional Manipulation:**  Methodically wears down sense of self-worth, self-confidence, self-concept and trust in their own perceptions. At its worse, victims lose all sense of self and their personal values.

* * *

 

Her skin had always bruised easily, a lifetime of books and facts having done nothing to harden it to the harshness life outside of a lab could offer.

 

Papercuts and typing had hardened the very tips of her fingers, making an art of how her long and delicate digits could create the words for the most intricate of processes. Like a pianist, she’d perch herself forwards, dedication and borderline obsession with always being the best creating for her a universe nobody else would ever truly have access to. Even Fitz, with his intelligence and years by her side, would often find it hard to keep up with certain parts of her always working brain. Her obsession with being the best founded in the sake of knowledge rather than the sake of being better than others only a reflection on her personality.

 

Simmons had always been a terrible liar, from when she’d been a little girl sneaking into her father’s office to when she’d joined S.H.I.E.L.D, her character too genuine for her to ever master quite such a talent no matter how necessary it was for her own wellbeing. There were always ways to twist the truth, always ways to divert people’s attentions when it truly came down to it.

 

If push came to shove, it was easy to ensure nobody focussed on her.

 

Such innocence showed itself in different ways, making her easy to misread simply due to a team like theirs all used to looking too much between the lines. Looking for subtext when with Simmons would never work because her very nature was to wear her heart on her sleeve and her brain on her lips- thoughts spoken as they happened, sharing even what others wouldn’t understand as if forgetting that her intelligence made her in any way better. Forgetting not everyone knew all that she did.

 

Perhaps if she’d been given warning she could have masked her reaction.

 

She’d been told no more than anyone else: they were working with an expert. A well known agent who would come in useful for the predictable future- Coulson’s respect in regards to him echoing in his tone, offering no further details. No name, no past, simply the fact they were to come meet their new ‘teammate’.

 

“It’s time.”

 

If she’d been given warning, she could have found any way out of this situation, freezing like a cornered deer when she entered the room alongside Fitz, smile faltering and colour draining from her cheeks.

 

He wasn’t quite as tall as she remembered, though he was still a great deal taller than she was. Lips curved in a seemingly pleasant manner as he nodded at whatever was being said, sharp eyes flickering to her with a smugness she had no idea how nobody else was seeing. Black hair short and a messy scar tracing his cheek from cheekbone to jaw, something that hadn’t been there when she’d met him.

 

Even in a normal situation, her ex joining the team would be a nightmare. A betrayal in the sense Coulson had read her file- he hadn’t even questioned her before letting the man she’d specifically requested never to work with onto their team.

 

The only thing she’d asked for, unable to move from where her shoes had seemingly grown roots into the ground. She’d asked just one thing and apparently it was too much.

 

“Simmons.” Her panicked reverie was broken by Ward, his voice uncharacteristically soft as he remained besides her (when had he gotten there?). “Everything alright?”

 

It was probably a good thing she couldn’t find the voice to answer, lips briefly parting before closing again. Just about managing a nod with barely a spared glance at him. No, no she wasn’t alright and the situation wasn’t alright. How could anything be alright when she couldn't even blink in fear this nightmare would get worse?

 

“Here she is.” Coulson said before she could consider being honest, a swift movement of his fingers indicating she was to come closer. “I’m told you and Agent Carmichael here are already acquainted.”

 

Acquainted was certainly one word for it, Jemma knowing the ache of faded little scars was psychological, forcing herself to ignore the urge to rub the pale white lines decorating her back. She resisted the urge to turn and literally run a mile, tightly crossing her arms as she looked over the overly familiar face- one that had offered nightmares long before those of falling and drowning.

 

The man who made her long for drowning because at least water had the mercy of offering numbness as it took her breath.

 

Her nails were digging into her palms as her arms crossed tighter, little thought going onto how her posture could be taken by the others as unusually detached eyes looked at Carmichael. It was likely they would take it as how they would have it- aggressive and removed, closing herself off to the new presence. Anything but it being a defensive action, hugging herself tightly to reassure herself. To steady herself as Coulson’s next words caused a frown and her eyes to finally move to him.

 

(Never noticing how both Fitz and Ward seemed like statues, still in their places as worried gazes didn’t leave her.)

 

“I trust you’re both capable of separating your differences and be civil for the sake of the team.” She’d never been as close to screaming as she was in that moment, not even certain she could summon enough calmness to _find_ her voice.

 

“Of course we will. We’re both professionals.” Carmichael’s smugness alone was enough to cause her eyes to sharpen, knowing him too well to mistake it for politeness. Years away from him, years away from mind games had strengthened her only enough that she didn’t shatter simply at being in the same room as the hateful man. “Can’t we, Gem?”

 

That nickname. She’d held it together so well until the nickname left his lips, her tone coming out so hard even she wanted to flinch at it. Overcompensating in hope of hiding how her voice was shaking, hiding how her nails had dug into her palms until she could feel a wet warmth beneath her nails.

 

He knew how much she hated it. He knew how it would trigger a response, how she wouldn’t be able to just smile when the name he used to call her when he lost his temper echoed in her ears.

 

“My first name or variations are for friends. I would much rather Doctor Simmons, if it’s all the same to you.”

 

Years away from him and he still knew how to play her so he came out smelling of roses.

 

* * *

 **Alienation (Powerlessness):**  A person believes that his or her actions have no effect on outcomes.

* * *

 

_When she’d first met Carmichael Jemma had barely been legal- so wide eyed and tender skinned it was a wonder she had enough competitive spirit in her to already be so advanced for her years. Still right at the start of her friendship with Fitz, so lonely and isolated from others it had barely taken a conversation started by him for some part of her to admire the older man enough to not mind what just seemed like 'quirks'._

_Some part of her, young and hopeful, uncertain of what a normal relationship actually held, took a long time to realise things weren’t as they were meant to be. Simply glad enough that somebody wanted to break her world of silence that she didn’t question far too much._

_It had started with insults._

_It had started with insults always followed by a light ‘don’t take yourself so seriously’ or ‘I always forget you have no humour about yourself’ that had her blushing and apologising._

_They weren’t as obvious as they felt, a girl with as little of a ego as Jemma only noticing the more cutting ones. Only noticing when remarks about her appearance had her hiding under more layers, trying to find something she knew would never be her to make him happy. For a rare moment of positivity rather than another snippy comment about her looking like a child in mother’s clothes._

_“It’s no wonder you’re always alone if that’s how you ramble.”_

_If she’d had more than one budding friendship, it was likely he would have isolated her- surrendering on separating her from Fitz simply because he’d often said it got her desire to talk at least slightly out of her system.  Him getting jealous or annoyed with her was her fault after all, she couldn’t get so defensive when all he was doing was caring about her._

_The first time he gripped her wrist hard enough to leave bruises Jemma had wanted to leave. She’d wanted to walk out of the door and listen to the little voice in the back of her head telling her something was wrong._

_Carmichael convinced her to stay with a tender kiss, soft compliments and endless apologies._

_She couldn’t walk away over something she’d triggered after all, both promising the incident wouldn’t be repeated._

_And if she wore too long sleeves far after the bruises had faded, she tried to convince herself it was because she liked the feeling of them. She tried to convince herself anything but that it was to do with wanting anything to hide her a little from the world she had usually been so good at being ignored by._

_The second time he left bruises it was fingerprints on her neck, a row about how long she was spending studying with her ‘new friend’ leaving her pinned to a wall._

_Back then of course, Fitz barely knew her. He was still learning about her as she was about him, nothing telling him there was something odd about her choice to wear varying turtlenecks of increasingly dark shades despite lovely weather._

_When he had asked, she’d said it was due to her still being used to English weather, an odd curve to her lips and a rushed change of topic following before he had time to point out that for all America’s flaws at least the weather was better than in Scotland._

_There was never any compromising, Jemma had long since realised by the final hit, almost a year of increasingly angry reactions like a simmering pot of water, only growing hotter and more dangerous the longer it stayed on the flames._

_It took a glass door and the promise of finally leaving him for her to finally – finally – prefer anything to another moment with him and his horrid temper. Such a decision and the naïve hope that it wouldn’t be safer to announce it from several countries away, left a grand total of seven permanent marks on her back. No single one larger than a fingernail yet where each bit of glass from going through the door in the wrong sense had kissed remained a mark._

_A lab accident, the file said. An experiment had gone wrong and she’d gone flying. Fitz had brought her chocolates and sat with her when she waited to be freed from medical like a loyal terrier. Oddly protective of his first actual friend._

_Trusting enough to believe the story he was told rather than pushing to see what S.H.I.E.L.D had pushed under the carpet._

_Certain agents were far too good and well connected to be lost over one little incident with someone who wasn’t anyone yet._

_Jemma let herself hope that for once, just once, luck would be kind enough that she’d learnt her lesson and such a part of her life was over. Grades continuing to be perfect and easily proving herself to be more than some girl people who knew about Carmichael assumed had cried ‘wolf’ for attention._

_When her parents asked about the accident, all she did was give a sad smile and said she’d played with things she didn’t understand yet without thinking through all the repercussions._

_They’d laughed and told her it sounded typical of her._

 

* * *

 **Controlled Outbursts:**  The partner who seems to lose their cool when in a conflicting situation, but only with the victim.  In front of friends, family and co-workers, they can stay even-keeled in a stressful moment, but when just the two of them, they can’t seem to control their emotions.

* * *

 

She hated how badly she’d messed up, being the first to act hostile instantly triggering Coulson’s disapproving glare being focussed on her. Putting down her behaviour to an emotional response – putting it down to her not being able to distance herself from the past.

 

That was true though, Jemma couldn’t pretend it wasn’t the past leaving goosebumps on her arms under the baby pink blouse, her nails digging so hard into her flesh she would be amazed if all her nails didn’t end up painted by it. It was an emotional response even if it was bound to be read wrong, her throat tightening as she forced her breaths to be deeper, trying to fend off the upcoming panic attack. She tried to control her breathing simply so she wouldn’t pass out there and then.

 

When everything had first happened nobody had listened to her when she’d gotten the courage to even try to tell. Nobody listening to the young genius when she tried to tell them an agent almost nine years her senior would even look at her twice, never mind dig his nails so deeply in her flesh she still had crescent moons on her white skin. Nobody had listened when she’d tried to have him pushed out of her life- barely even friends with Fitz yet and as such unable to turn to him.

 

Now, the only thing stopping her from telling all of them and begging for him to get away from her was the fact somewhere in her head she’d let herself accept the belief nobody would ever believe her.

 

Getting the request to never work with him had taken turning up to medical beaten to the point she’d barely been able to stand. Only the parts not covered by clothing free of bruising, people still doubting it was the truth but accepting her request when one of their brightest minds made it clear she’d be gone in a heartbeat if they didn’t.

 

She half wished Skye was there, the woman’s absence from the suddenly frosty room easy to notice. Jemma would have given anything for her intuition, her ability to look at things and work out that something was wrong. Hell, she would have given anything for someone to make a sarcastic comment to break the horrific silence that filled the room. But Skye wasn’t there, Jemma unable to ignore the momentary curve of Carmichael’s lips before he dramatically sighed.

 

“I see you’re still bitter then.”

 

Bitter. There was no way of telling even for her if she wanted to cry or laugh at the use of the word. Bitter had connotations of once being disappointed at something ending rather than such relief she had never felt before- the same sort of relief she’d felt at Ward catching her. The same relief as when Skye had first opened her eyes after being shot. She was anything but bitter: frightened, frozen, even angry.

 

Now it had been spoken though Coulson shook his head, eyes alone making it clear in which way he was seeing things already. “I apologise. I don’t know what’s gotten into her.” Just… wonderful. His frown deepened as he shook his head. “Simmons.”

 

Her name was muttered like a parent trying to urge a petulant child to apologise. A child with no cause for stamping their feet and clinging to any possible surface rather than continue in the direction they were being told to.

 

(In this case, Jemma felt like the only one aware she was being walked back towards a fire far bigger than herself.)

 

“I requested not to work with him.” Why was her voice so soft? Jemma forced the words out with what energy she had left for speaking, unable to look away from the blue eyes she had seen angry one too many times to ever feel safe around ever again. “Sir…”

 

She was borderline begging.

 

The sound of Ward taking a step closer from where he’d been behind her barely reached her, ears filled with the panicked pulsating of her own heart. Still, the agent stilled at a single look from Coulson.

 

“With everything going on he’s a necessary addition.” There was no arguing, no room for movement. “Unless you have an actual reason for this other than your hurt feelings I’d suggest you get over your issues with Agent Carmichael.”

 

Nobody had believed her when she’d tried to tell before. Nobody had believed her when she’d told people what the perfect little agent was capable of, how angry he’d get the moment there were no eyes other than hers to see it.

 

Nobody had believed her, and she wasn’t certain she could survive seeing people she cared about so much not believe her this time too.

 

Whatever part of her had once believed it was her fault too raised its head, slipping a worn and heavy hand over her lips to block what broken words she wanted to get out. Stopping her from voicing why she couldn’t be near him for what was clearly a while too long, Coulson shaking his head as he moved past her.

 

Only briefly he softened his voice, “Then you need to put this behind you. We set off in ten.”

 

Carmichael smiled again, glancing from Ward to Fitz and to Jemma, tone light as he only briefly moved closer to her. Straightening her white dotted tie with a brief chuckle.

 

“This is going to be fun, don’t you think?”

 

Faltering after Carmichael left, it only took Jemma a few seconds to shoot from the room far quicker than either remaining man could stop her, the sensation of sickness in the pit of her stomach quickly evolving to an actual sickness. Bitter and burning at the back of her throat.

 

More than ever before since joining the team, Jemma just wanted to go home and hide.

 

 


	2. Mind Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ( In which more things break than a mug. )
> 
> No matter if it was May, Ward, Skye or anyone else Jemma was equally gentle as if trying prevent them from shattering under her fingertips.
> 
> When he’d at first asked her about why she tried so hard to be gentle- tone more like an accusation rather than an observation, his eyes screaming _I’m not weak I can take it_ \- she had seemed surprised; gently replying he’d clearly had his dosage of violence for one day. Her eyes hard to read, seeming a mix of _let me try to fix you_ and something else.
> 
> Later on, the realisation would sink in that her eyes had simply screamed _I wish someone had been gentle with me when I’d needed fixing_. SHIELD medics hadn’t been gentle with her when fixing her back, seeing her as some idiot child who had played with fire and not been careful. A girl who had gotten herself blasted through a glass door due to her stupid intelligence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the feedback on last chapter, I'm glad you guys liked it. This chapter will have a lot more Ward/Simmons interactions as well as even more reasons to hate Tobias Carmichael. I hope it's okay...
> 
> (And yep. Each section is named after one of the top ten warning signs of an abusive relationship because I lack imagination.)

* * *

**Placement of Blame:**  Blame is the foundation of domestic violence, it is essential to both implement and disguise power and control. It can take many appearances from taking on the role of 'victim' to labelling the other person’s point of view ‘crazy,’ or irrational.

* * *

 

Somehow, over the days after Carmichael’s arrival, finding Jemma had become an intricate game of hide and seek for everyone but Fitz (and even he seemed to struggle slightly at times when playing the version that needed to get her attention off her work).

 

Ward didn’t really know why that had surprised him, the two scientists seeming to have a psychic link when it came to finding each other. It was almost funny how even on the confined space of the plane Jemma could find a way to avoid everyone. She’d managed to find a way to avoid even trained agents with a skill Ward half wished Skye would develop in their training.

 

A skill that logically Jemma shouldn’t have ever needed to develop.

 

It could have almost been funny if he’d been able to see things as Coulson did. Except the matter that as hard as he tried it remained far easier to see her as a small, frightened kitten rather than a petulant child complaining over nothing. Something about how she was when forced to be around the others (around Carmichael), lingering in the very corners of the room. Avoiding breaking her silence unless completely necessary, her voice smaller and gaze focussed on the space between her and whoever she was talking to.

 

For the first couple of days, they’d all put it down to her being in some form of a strop. Not wanting to deal with Carmichael and being angry with Coulson for the lack of warning- which would be fair enough, yet instinct had decided to refuse to let Ward quite believe Jemma would react in such a way. She wasn’t the sort to put herself or her feelings about anything else, it was usually that which counted as the primary cause of concern for her wellbeing.

 

“Fitz, I swear to God the next time you ‘accidentally forget something’ to check up on me I will start bringing dead things into the lab again and strategically placing them to torture you.”

 

Ward counted it as a new low that he was praising himself for outlasting Fitz of all people, the scientist yo-yoing between wherever Jemma was hiding out and where the others were more than ever. Much like Ward his instinct leaving him more protective than ever, doing his very best to not leave her alone for long no matter what she seemed to want. Doing his best to work out what could possibly leave his best friend so different, so out of place in her own skin.

 

That didn’t seem to be a problem for the rest of the team. Stories often told around SHIELD of the talented agent having left an angle on their preconceptions of the man and what happened around him. Coulson and May’s evident respect for the agent enough to make Skye curious about him, forcing Coulson tell her the stories told around SHIELD about the missions the man had achieved- the situations he had somehow managed to best.

 

Nobody came out of such a thing without some form of a darkness in them, Ward more than anyone aware of that. The worst what was overcome the worst the scars that remained- the poison left behind, staining just under the skin. Lingering with the agent no matter how strong.

 

Scars didn’t have to be physical to mess someone up and something about Carmichael left Ward wondering how such an agent could come across so calm and casual.

 

How someone so pleasant could have upset Jemma to the point even Ward was so worried he was finding himself in her lab, letting the door shut behind himself as to ensure privacy.

 

Ward also couldn’t work out why Carmichael left him feeling oddly nervous, catching how he’d look at Jemma when he believed no eyes to be on him making the distinctive feeling of _wrongness_ stronger. The same feeling he used to get when his older brother would smile at his girlfriend as his cold eyes screamed that she’d done something in his mind that would only lead to misery.

 

Still, he forced himself to believe this was different. The situation was different and he was determined to see something as wrong due to the weakness he’d developed for the usually brave little scientist.

 

The brave little scientist that had been reduced from a lioness in her own right to a deer simply by entering the same room as a part of her past she’d tried so hard to outrun.

 

Clearly displeased with the silence of who she assumed to be Fitz the woman sighed, faltering when she turned to continue her threat only to find it wasn’t Fitz there with her. Narrowly avoiding knocking over what she’d been working on, easily avoiding it when she realised her proximity to the vial, instinct making likely that if they had fallen she would have been hurt by how quickly she indicated for Ward not to move closer rather than stepping away herself.

 

Getting her attention back though she at least tried to offer a smile, aware it wouldn’t reach her eyes but wanting to convince both of them that she was indeed fine. “Sorry. Sorry I thought you were…” Fitz had been watching her so carefully lately it was odd having anyone else around her unannounced. Still, she couldn’t help the relief at the fact it was Ward and not anyone she wanted to see far, far less.

 

He wasn’t used to caring, Ward quite honestly not certain he even knew how to. It wasn’t as though he even had experience as to how be on the receiving end of it- the team a new experience for a thousand reasons, including how her hands had been so gentle every time she’d stitched him up. Every time someone was injured Jemma ending up being surprisingly tender.

 

Not like the SHIELD medics who knew Agents could take far worse. That one they would have to so they shouldn’t get used to people trying to go gentle on them.

 

No matter if it was May, Ward, Skye or anyone else Jemma was equally gentle as if trying prevent them from shattering under her fingertips.

 

When he’d at first asked her about why she tried so hard to be gentle- tone more like an accusation rather than an observation, his eyes screaming _I’m not weak I can take it_ \- she had seemed surprised; gently replying he’d clearly had his dosage of violence for one day. Her eyes hard to read, seeming a mix of _let me try to fix you_ and something else.

 

Later on, the realisation would sink in that her eyes had simply screamed _I wish someone had been gentle with me when I’d needed fixing_. SHIELD medics hadn’t been gentle with her when fixing her back, seeing her as some idiot child who had played with fire and not been careful. A girl who had gotten herself blasted through a glass door due to her stupid intelligence.

 

Having injuries fixed whilst being treated as though it was the victim’s fault often seemed to make them far, far worse when she had to see the scars or feel the ache every time she moved.

 

Even May had briefly seemed startled when experiencing the gentleness one woman could project onto others, genuinely worried about people that at the time she barely knew.

 

“I take it he’s been worried about you?” It was the closest he wanted to get to admitting he too had been worried. That he’d been unable to rest because his mind had been racing trying to work out what was wrong. If there was any way to fix it without breaking the orders of treating Carmichael like one of the team.

 

Ward wanted to break his nose simply because he knew the man had caused this. Jemma’s dark blouse buttoned up fully, tie tightly done up- black against the navy blue blouse, both contrasting with her horribly pale skin. The slightly uneven application of foundation under her eyes to hide where dark lines were appearing. Nails a little shorter from being traced over surfaces, Jemma drawing invisible patters on pretty much anything she could when tried to steady her relentlessly cruel mind.

 

Ward wanted to hurt Carmichael simply for being the one to hurt the team’s one true ray of colour so much.

 

Jemma didn’t seem to realise that as she ran a hand over her hair, having left it down like a shield to cover her face. Masking her and her reactions as unusually dim eyes looked back at him when she groaned. “I’ve already had a lecture on my apparent behaviour. I’m just… I’m busy. I’m not intentionally avoiding anyone.”

 

In all her time with the team, it seemed she still couldn’t quite lie. Another flaw Ward hated liking about her, not knowing how on Earth to deal with someone as genuine as they were gentle. As fragile as they were strong. A beautifully stubborn walking contradiction wrapped up in layers usually found in a grandmother’s wardrobe.

 

“Relax, Simmons. I’m not here to lecture.” Why was he there then? Her face asked the exact same question, head tilting a little as she regarded him. Waiting for some form of a follow up sentence to make things compute in her head. “I just wanted to see what’s wrong. Because something clearly is. Even Fitz isn’t taking your word for this and he’d believe you if you told him the laws of physics had changed.”

 

“Technically the laws of physics are always changing-” at least the monologue he’d apparently triggered was far more like her, her words lighter and easier as her hands flowed with the wave of passionate knowledge leaving her lips. Pushing her hair off her face as she brought what she was saying to a close, redness flickering on the pale skin as she bit her bottom lip. “Which wasn’t your point. Noted, sorry.”

 

Sometimes Ward would struggle to believe she could be for real, that she wasn’t an act. Too tender to seem to belong on Earth never mind SHIELD of all places. It was no wonder she’d been Fitz’s first real friend. If anyone could slip under someone’s defences it would someone like her.

 

“My point,” He dragged out the words, not really wanting the blush to fade or for her to scurry back into her shell. “Was that you haven’t been yourself the past few days. Even I was starting to miss your technicalities and you know how it all goes over my head.”

 

“You speak six languages. You don’t fool me with the ‘over my head’ thing.” She mock accused, laugh a little nervous but not seeming to draw back when he moved closer. Not seeming to want to run away yet. Instead she simply looked pensive, as if considering his point, considering what he was going to say.

 

Considering everything and the variables of saying whatever was hurting her head so much.

 

Standing between her and the table though Ward leant against it, not wanting to overwhelm her. Leaving her her space the best he could considering he wasn’t a small man and for someone so small she seemed to radiate a presence through the room when at ease.

 

What was so terrible that she couldn’t be at ease around Carmichael but could so easily be around someone like Ward?

 

“I want to understand.” He made his tone gentler. “I’m on your side, Jemma. Fitz is too. We all are. And something is clearly not right.” She was faltering, clearly struggling with the fear of verbalising whatever it was on the tip of her tongue. “I just want to understand so I can help.”

 

Help. It was clear she needed at least that, some part of her wanting nothing more than to tell Ward. To tell him she was frightened, that she didn’t want Carmichael near her.

 

But at the same time, the last time she’d tried to tell anyone they’d ignored her and worse she’d ended up with Carmichael’s SO at the end of her medical bed telling her if she wanted to make it in SHIELD it would be best to shut up.

 

Who’d believe one silly girl over one of SHIELD’s brightest new tactical stars?

 

No matter how much she wanted to believe him, to believe he would believe her, it was. It was hard to convince herself she even should tell. After all, she’d always been the one to trigger rages no matter how irrational it was to think of it like that.

 

“You said you’d catch me if I fell.” Her voice was small, heartbreakingly so as she remained still. Watching him with searching eyes.

 

“And I will. But I can’t unless you tell me what’s frightened you so much.” They were getting somewhere. “We’ve all had bad breakups but this is more than, isn’t it?”

 

Ward liked to think she would have told him if it weren’t for Skye’s eager running into the room to tell them Coulson wanted them upstairs.

 

The moment was lost and as gently as she had opened up she quickly shut herself off, hair slipping back onto her face as she followed Skye with only a brief, tired look at him.

 

It was probably for the best anyway.

 

* * *

**Humiliation:** Publicly insulting the victim in such a way that if they did muster the courage to defend themselves then they would look petty or weak. It is cutting and dehumanizing and is often followed by the words, "I was just kidding."

* * *

 

It was getting to the point Jemma was so tired her head hurt, the overwhelming force of her day leaving her feeling as though if her hands trembled any more the rest of her body would follow in their example.

 

She hated Carmichael with a passion usually dedicated to good things.

 

She hated him with most of herself.

 

She feared him with every fibre of being she had, barely able to hear the mission description from Coulson as the agent stood far too close, eyes on the other man as if not aware he’d gotten closer. As if not aware of how her fingers were gripping the table she was leaning against simply to keep herself upright.

 

Jemma hated herself for feeling so weak, wishing Ward or May were closer. Longing for the comfort either of their ever-seeing presences seemed to offer, Ward out of the odd little bond they had developed and May because she seemed naturally suspicious of Carmichael simply due to not liking an unplanned presence to join them on their plane.

 

The plane that had once felt so safe, her gaze flickering to Carmichael once in a while to assure herself he hadn’t moved closer. That he was simply there and nothing more. It wasn’t as though he could do any more than silently wind her up in a room with the others- May the only one not there as she actually piloted them to wherever they were headed.

 

Italy. She was fairly certain Coulson had said Italy and if it weren’t for everything going on, Jemma would have been excited to be near the culture she so adored again. The opportunity that they may have enough room to spare to go look at some art or simply take in the surroundings.

 

The surroundings of sea and air from when she’d jumped from the plane would be preferable to where she was trapped between wood and her own personal hell.

 

Ward was busy checking something in the file with Coulson whilst Fitz was busy looking at Skye’s laptop with her with his adorably confused little frown.  All of them busy getting ready for what came next whilst Jemma was left wondering how long her lungs could go without air- unable to make herself try to breathe again in fear it would break the stillness between her and the man.

 

One of these days, she was likely to be driven mad simply by her inability to want to be a trouble to anyone else.

 

One of these days she was going to be hurt by the fear of letting the others down, trying to dampen her lips as she shifted her weight on her shoes, trying to work out any way out of the room without it being utterly obvious she was indeed running.

 

(Running would be an understatement if the pace her heart was going at was any clue about it.)

 

Certain games didn’t even need much effort though, Jemma moving to grab her mug so she could move. She could go over and join Fitz and Skye with the long since tepid tea, listen to their excited ramblings to give her something else to focus on. Their ramblings were calming, soothing in their familiar sweetness. The two ready to bicker until the end and rejoice in proving the other wrong without ever allowing anyone else to pick on the other. Loyal whilst playful, a puppy and a monkey in the lightness they held themselves with.

 

Even with their pasts, both managing to make the best of the present. Skye with the sheer emotional neglect of her childhood now so happy to be wanted Jemma often found herself struggling not to go out of her way to include her. Letting her sit in on scientific arguments and smiling at jokes about needing subtitles for them.

 

Fitz with his less than desirable childhood with a father from hell and growing up far too fast only partly because of his intelligence. Remaining sweet and loyal whilst fiercely protective of those he loved. Fiercely determined to prove himself to be more than just some smart kid in general, not realising there was nothing left to prove in their eyes.

 

She’d had it so much easier than anyone else there and Jemma couldn’t help but feel guilt at how she was reacting. At how she was making a show of everything when it should be pushed under a carpet.

 

Worrying Fitz and Ward.

 

Aggravating Coulson.

 

Confusing Skye and maybe May.

 

She was making a horrible mess of things, the sound of a loud crash making her jump as her mug slammed to the ground. Her fingers having moved to where she had been certain the handle had been… It was funny what a few millimetres could change, Jemma barely having time to react before Carmichael sighed.

 

“You always were a clumsy thing.” He commented in such a manner Jemma knew replying would make her simply seem like she was snapping over nothing. Gaze meeting his only briefly as his tone lowered. “You just need a firmer hand.”

 

A firmer hand. To grip the mug tighter so it wouldn’t shatter.

 

To keep herself together long enough to not throw up simply at the touch on her arm as she moved to deal with the mess she’d created once again.

 

Carmichael instead nodding to the door, “We’ll deal with your mess. You’re clearly exhausted and that won’t do your work any good.”

 

Her mess, her problem. It was making her head spin, unable to keep track of everything. Too tired to really wonder how her mug had travelled the extra inch to make this accident happen. Too tired to question how now Carmichael was now insinuating her work would suffer because of it.

 

She’d been doing nothing but work since he’d arrived. Work had been calming her. Surely she wouldn’t have messed up any of what she’d almost finished?

 

Jemma had been more neurotic than ever but at the thought she could be messing up the one thing she was using to steady herself she was too tired to be angry at him.

 

Now her hopes of getting more sleep would be gone in favour for her mind keeping her up panicking about this, just as he knew it would.

 

“I… I’m sorry.” Jemma whispered instead as she let herself be ushered to the door by concerned gazes and a smug glance from Carmichael. “I just need a rest.”

 

She’d barely left her lab since he had arrived, finding a safety in it that nowhere else could provide. More than unlocked bedroom doors could no matter how much better her bed would be to the options the lab had.

 

Going back there would be ill advised now, knowing the others would keep an eye on her to ensure she actually was sleeping. Taking away her preferred hiding spot and leaving her with a few limited options as to where else she could just… hide.

 

Hide from her past and hide from Carmichael. Hide from whatever game next came up to make her more on edge.

 

Not that any of it explained to her why her usually logical mind led her directly to the one place that was probably completely stupid. Faltering at the door before daring to push it open, teeth tugging on her bottom lip as she faltered half in the room and half out.

 

Silent as she was, Jemma had little doubt the other knew she was there. Part of her wanted to be spotted simply to make it easier to ask if she could stay for a while, just until the others would have gone to bed. Until the others wouldn’t be really wondering if Jemma was too tired to work properly.

 

Would they put her lack of sleep down to her being petty as well? It seemed like that was the label everything she did was being given simply because she lacked the smooth eloquence Carmichael had when convincing people he was in the right. That there was nothing more than met the eye, just a girl who couldn’t cope with a breakup.

 

“You might as well sit if you’re going to linger there.”

 

May wasn’t the sort to pressure for answers that weren’t needed, Jemma allowing a brief smile as she took the seat, glad for once they only had one pilot. It left somewhere to hide and nobody would assume Jemma would go as far as hiding out with May to avoid problems.

 

May was safe, which was an odd thought in itself as Jemma happily let the following silence remain. For once there was no need to fill it, no need to blabber about whatever was going on in her head.

 

The silence was nice, Jemma tucking her feet on the seat and resting her cheek on her knees, watching the view ahead of them rather than meeting the almost worried frown the other gave her.

 

May wasn’t the sort to pry and Jemma just wanted to find somewhere there weren’t eyes on her or the daunting feeling anyone could walk in any minute.

 

Even if May soon left, letting the plane pilot itself, hopefully nobody would think the woman with a thing for heights would be looking at the best view of how up they were.

 

There were things she was far more frightened of than falling.

 

Whilst there was no winning or pausing her situation, Jemma didn’t question the fact that when she did awake from the first sleep she’d had in far too long, May was in the exact same spot. Not having moved until needing to wake Jemma because they’d be arriving soon, what almost looked like worry in her eyes and touch surprisingly light on her arm.

 

Neither did she question how a blanket had made its way onto her looking oddly like the throw that usually stayed on Ward’s bed- the man having claimed the only black one in their little supply closet.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, the next part for you guys :) Hopefully you liked it - and we even got a guest appearance from May. I do wonder how she'll react when the truth comes out... Yes, it wasn't that good. Author is regretting publishing it as you read.
> 
> Please, please review. It means a lot to me and this is your chance to guess how you think the team will react. Plus you can request what you want to happen to Carmichael! You never know, it could happen. x


	3. Old Habits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This time when Jemma jolted and turned, startled fear leaving her veins streams of ice, there was no Ward softly trying to wake her from her nightmare. No concerned eyes on her or surprising gentleness. No way of waking herself up with a pinch or a scream as she stumbled back, her usually bright eyes horribly wide. 
> 
> Her nightmare had finally cornered her and the logical part of her mind had seemingly shut down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay dears, I've been caught up in exams. Luckily the next part is completely planned (yay) and should be up in less than a week. 
> 
> Thank you for all the lovely reviews- I hope this part doesn't disappoint.

* * *

 

**Constant Fear:** Victims of abuse know all too well lingering the after effects of abuse can be. 

* * *

 

Nightmares were a funny thing, providing Jemma more than enough evidence that not only was her luck happy torturing her to the verge of madness but so was her very mind. Coming up with continuous images in the heavy blanket of night, back arching and pure soundless terror overcoming her like a wave. Her blunt nails digging into the bedding beneath her in a subconscious attempt to steady herself, to hold onto something real so her mind would just _stop stop stop_.

 

For someone who was usually far too cold, the heat of her skin seemed to burn with the contrast to the cold air, images of sharded glass and broken flesh leaving her chocking on her own air. Too much flooding into her lungs yet leaving her feeling as though she was suffocating under some heavy weight.

 

After joining the team the nightmares had stopped- the new start offering enough relief that even the more damaged parts of her wonderful brain accepted just maybe she could start anew. Just maybe she’d found a way to outrun the scars that would permanently remain on her back, jagged and uneven and so much deeper than they looked when compared to how her slender form would still moved gracefully despite how they stretched and moved with her. Tattered wings to decorate an angel who didn’t quite belong to such a hard world. A constant reminder that perhaps there wasn’t hope for all humanity- perhaps not all people had a part of them that could be saved or helped.

 

Falling (jumping) from the plane had surprisingly barely caused nightmares simply because a part of her knew at least with the team there were people willing to catch her. She didn’t have to fall alone just like she didn’t have to struggle to the surface with a weight she couldn’t quite manage. They were meant to be there for each other because that was what teams did.

 

This though she had no option but to deal with the matter alone no matter how much she wanted to just tell someone – anyone – why it was she couldn’t close her eyes without feeling as though she was being forced through a glass wall. Feeling everything around her crack and bend the split second before everything would just shatter.

 

She wanted to tell Fitz, her best friend. To seek the comfort of late hours sitting on his bed and talking about science rather than letting her mind obsess over this. She wanted to be able to get the words out as to why she was so scared without believing it would end up like the last time she’d found the courage to tell someone.

 

It would likely not end any better, men like Carmichael were far too charismatic and far too clever to slip up in such an environment. What could she even say? He’d mostly made cutting comments, only once really getting physical and even then, despite how she became the most obvious evidence against him, nobody had listened.

 

Jemma chocked on one of her silent sobs as her body tangled further in the sheets, cold sweat leaving her shivering despite feeling too hot. Hair masking her face, sticking to a dampness to her cheeks and her parted lips. Broken breathing filling the silent room as she tried to kick her legs free of their restraints. Not fully asleep but not fully awake, heart too fast and breathing sounding wrong seeing how it was getting too much in and out too quickly for it to be doing her any good.

 

“ _Simmons._ ” Her entire body flinched away from the touch on her shoulders, a sleep filled whimper sounding as panicked as she felt. The voice familiar but unable to soothe her as she tangled further in the increasingly tight blankets, nails buried so deep in the bedding it wouldn’t be a surprise if little crescent holes were left behind in her wake.

 

Another perfectly good thing damaged because of one person’s issues.

 

“Simmons, you need to wake up.” Easier said than done as a large hand gently brushed the hair from her face, barely able to see her anyway in the dark room. “Sim- Jemma. Jemma, it’s okay. You’re okay.” The statement likely would have been more reassuring if he’d had actually sounded certain of it rather than his own tone sounding… sounding constrained, not certain what to do.

 

Still, he did his best to offer what he hoped was a reassuring smile as her eyes opened, knowing it was rusty and a little forced because what on Earth was going on with her? Recently she’d always been around the lab at this time, Ward only having noticed once by accident when he’d been unable to sleep and wondering. He’d certainly deny keeping an eye out to see if she ever did sleep after that, something simply having felt off that she wasn’t sneaking past him with a self-conscious smile to make a tea with the leftover boiled water he’d left in the kettle when they did cross paths this morning.

 

She hadn’t been up and he’d been more concerned than he likely had right to be, only having intended to walk past her room. He certainly hadn’t aimed to falter at the sound of a muffled noise from inside the room, or actually enter it when the panic in suffocated noises left him wondering if she was being murdered. Or at least tortured in some sense.

 

Which wasn’t completely incorrect from the looks of things, Ward never having really considered the option that perhaps she too had demons capable of leaving her trembling and struggling for air. Her own head seemingly out to destroy her.

 

Her brilliant, trusting little head.

 

“That’s it. Just slowly sit up.” He reassured when she moved, still sitting on the edge of her bed. A hand holding hers as he guided her up. She needed something to focus on until she steadied and he was told touch could be soothing, comforting even when done like this. Not that he’d know from his own experiences but he could at least try.

 

“I’m so sorry.” Of course those would be the first words from her lips, trying her best to force them into an unsteady smile as she glanced at the clock on the side of her bed, little green lines forming a horribly early four in the morning. Still, her concern was clear as she gently rubbed her forehead. “I wasn’t terribly loud was I? I didn’t mean to disturb you. Or anyone, I mean you’re just unlucky enough to end up being my neighbour.”

 

Rambling, it was such a typical little Jemma reaction Ward almost forgot to react to her initial reaction to apologise. As if by instinct she believed she must have done something wrong, by instinct believing that she must have messed up.

 

“No, not at all. I was just-” Admitting to worrying would be admitting to a weakness. It would be admitting to caring somewhat for the dark haired, bright-eyed woman. “I was getting something from my room and happened to hear you not sounding right.” Well, he certainly could have phrased it better. He frowned at himself before quickly shrugging the thought off.

 

He could argue with himself later about why he gave a damn about one little scientist, Ward instead watching her slowly begin to steady her breathing, the shaking still in her hands and making her eyes sparkle with tears rather than her usual joy for living not right. More than ever he was made aware of how little he knew about the woman’s past, nothing really personal mentioned in her personal file. Just work and Fitz. A good family, a good work ethic. A good nature, her little spare time always seemingly related to trying to improve herself in one way or another, never contempt with how much she knew or could do.

 

Unsteady with herself as if still hoping that one day whatever answer or validation she needed would be found in a book along with yet another science award. “Are you alright?”

 

“Of course.” She had always been a terrible liar, answer too fast and eyes avoiding his even in the darkness. Scared of showing weakness in a way oddly alike why he didn’t. Fear of not being able to control it, not knowing if the other person would exploit it or simply let it lesson their view on them. Trying their best to forget the fact they both still were human beings and not just sharpened skills. “You know how it gets. Stress.”

 

Stress and fear were a bad combination, especially with so little sleep in her system. It was doing good for nobody and it was making her skin feel too tight around her neck, strangling her even now she was awake with simply herself. Stress and fear a cocktail for disaster that left her feebly searching for any way to get the courage to say the words, to tell Ward why she was so frightened.

 

It would be easy, so easy to part her lips and say it… “I should probably change and go down to the lab. I won’t be getting back to sleep now.”

 

“Nightmares are a common part of the job, you know that.” Ward had intended the words to be comforting but that had never been a talent of his. He didn’t know how to make people feel okay unless they were after permanent numbness. Not that he would ever offer when she was in such a state. “I mean, we all get them seeing what we do. If you ever wanted to talk any of us would listen…”

 

Any of them would hear but not all of them would listen. Coulson so stressed he likely wouldn’t even do that, his faith in Carmichael’s reputation still blinded. Skye was being won over by the charismatic man and Jemma certainly didn’t want to involve Fitz. She didn’t want to be responsible for his first kill and she knew how protective he’d get if he believed her. That just left the two team members she couldn’t imagine ever going to about something like this.

 

It would just seem like silly little Jemma had gotten herself in trouble again. She’d misjudged and then been unable to fix it herself.

 

“That’s… sweet of you. I appreciate it. But this is something I need to fix myself.” She needed to take it back into her own hands rather than relying on the naïve hope that this time her word would be enough. That these people she’d let herself care for just maybe would trust her on this without her having any evidence. Having met the man and almost all seemingly warmed to him no matter how Jemma only wanted to warm up to him by burning alive whenever he was near.

 

Soon she’d find a way to fix it, her fingers lingering on his as she gently gave a squeeze to his hand in silent thanks. The first contact she’d initiated with anyone for a good while and certainly something that lingered long after she pulled her hand back, not wanting to make him uncomfortable.

 

With time, she’d find a way to fix things. But until then Jemma just had to adjust to being near Carmichael. To being near the first person she’d ever truly fallen for- to being near the first person to truly leave her damaged and broken, left to fix herself like a porcelain doll only left with superglue and sticky tape. Still fragile and still beautiful but not quite what she’d once been. Jemma ran a hand through her hair again, knowing the curls were always unruly when she’d first woken, having a mind of their own when she hadn’t beaten them down with a brush yet.

 

“I think I’ll just work for a few hours. I won’t be getting back to sleep and the mind, or at least my mind, is more productive when it’s running on a lack of sleep induced adrenaline.” Jemma tried to joke, slowly getting up from the bed with a slight sigh. There was no going back to sleep after that and she certainly didn’t want to risk it.

 

Surrendering Ward gave her a small nod as he got up. “I’ll drop by later for a few stitches.” When she frowned he gave her his most charming smile, surprised by the ease he managed to summon it with. “At this time May’s up for a spar. That woman’s slowly trying to kill me during our sessions.”

 

She liked to see how much Ward could deal with and he liked the opportunity to get to know her, but it was early for even May to be up and willing for the amount of socialisation training would require. There was nothing he could do to help Jemma unless she let him. He made a mental note to later drop by the lab, leaving the room with only a helpless shrug when he noticed May wondering past.

 

At least it wasn’t just him that had made a habit of lingering around Jemma’s room at this hour to ‘accidentally’ interrupt her nightmares.

 

It was just a shame that a few minutes later when Jemma entered her lab with a sigh at the safety it seemed to offer, she didn’t notice she wasn’t alone until after the door had shut behind her and she’d made her way to her desk.

 

“Funny finding you here.”

 

This was one of those times the nightmares refused to stop even when she was awake.

 

* * *

**Mood Swings:** An abusive person is extremely unpredictable in their behaviour and their moods change from happy to angry in a flash for no apparent reason. And this unpredictable bipolar behaviour is almost always directed only towards you, not at their friends or their boss.

* * *

 

_There were twenty-two little scars on her back, each indicating where the glass of impact had broken into her. She’d been told she was lucky it wasn’t worse, that at least she could hide the signs of her stupidity at messing up so badly in the lab, at working when half asleep and letting such an error happen._

_Jemma had to give it to SHIELD nurses, they had a special way of making it feel as though every error could have led to thousands of deaths not just injuries to the individual. Which somewhat made sense: the people were dealing with might one day have that amount of responsibility on them, but she didn’t yet. She was just a frightened little girl, far from home, biting her bottom lip as she tried to remember that she couldn’t move off her side and she certainly wasn’t to put pressure on her back if she wanted to recover quickly._

_“I don’t see why you’re making things so hard for yourself.” Carmichael had sat on the edge of her bed, rubbing her leg as though he was just a concerned boyfriend visiting. Who just so happened to be visiting after visiting hours because he hadn’t been able to get out of training and just so happened to be able to miss any of her friends seeing him. “I heard you tried to talk to my supervising officer. That was silly of you.”_

_Tried to talk to him. Jemma could still remember almost chocking on a laugh._

_It had been more the intimidating man standing at the end of her bed, watching her through a stern glare as he made it clear that nobody would ever listen to her. If she wanted to make it in SHIELD she had to learn when to keep her mouth shut._

_There were some people a kid just shouldn’t cross._

_People far more valuable to the agency than she ever would be, no matter how clever tests and little inventions said she was. She’d never be one of the people behind the trigger._

_“He came to see me.” Jemma had pointlessly defended herself. Gaze on the furthest wall of the room rather than looking at him. Face half hidden by the cushion and half hidden by her dark hair. Stuck to her skin by the wet trails on her cheeks she just wanted to ignore. Just like she just wanted to ignore how there was no winning in this situation._

_She’d agreed to keep her mouth shut, she’d agreed not to tell anyone._

_She’d agreed to stay away from Carmichael as though that was something she had any say in._

_“And like I told him,” She continued, fear leaving her accent so much stronger on her words. Fear, hurt, exhaustion. Such a  mix she never wanted to experience again, no matter how long she lived. “A lab accident happened. I won’t mess up again.”_

_It was best to tell him what he wanted to hear. The cover story that would have to come naturally in the future when people asked for what happened and no longer took her hesitance as embarrassment._

_“Good girl.”_

_Jemma had never felt as sick as the moment he said the words, pressing a kiss to her forehead._

 

* * *

**Verbal insults:** Verbal abuse creates emotional pain and mental anguish. Generally, verbal abuse defines people, telling them what they are, what they think, their motives, and so forth.

* * *

 

This time when Jemma jolted and turned, startled fear leaving her veins streams of ice, there was no Ward softly trying to wake her from her nightmare. No concerned eyes on her or surprising gentleness. No way of waking herself up with a pinch or a scream as she stumbled back, her usually bright eyes horribly wide.

 

Her nightmare had finally cornered her and the logical part of her mind had seemingly shut down.

 

“Cat got your tongue Jem?” Carmichael’s amusement was evident as he remained on the seat near the door, not needing to be standing in front of it for him to be imposing enough that it was clear running really wasn’t an option. “Odd. You used to have a talent for rambling for a hundred men. Have you finally outgrown that?”

 

She’d always been aware she spoke a great deal, especially when nervous. But before him the possibility that it was a bad thing hadn’t really occurred to her. It was just another quirk, something most people smiled at and then put up with. Sometimes even commenting that it was sweet- that it was _fitting_ for her character, whatever that meant. Perhaps it was in regards to her youth and maybe it was just related to the fact her personality had an air of innocence that the world was yet to kill no matter how hard it tried.

  
Right in that moment she half wished it had managed to. That like May or Ward she could get herself out of the situation with no problem, that nobody in the world could stop her from doing what she needed to. From being able to act without hesitation. But whilst she excelled at preparation this sort of thing was what she wasn’t good at.

 

It wasn’t like acting in a second without thought because it was one of her team. It was just her.

 

“My tongue is just fine, Tobias.” How had her tone gotten so even? Hard on the tongue despite how her lips trembled slightly, still too startled for her mouth to catch up with her brain. “I’m just surprised to see you anywhere that involves learning.” Perhaps her mouth had decided she had a death wish, giving her best glare as she inwardly cursed herself with a moment of pure, unadulterated exasperation. Of all the people to wind up when stuck in a room with Carmichael was so far from the top of her list she almost found it amusing.

 

The difference between ‘almost amusing’ and ‘amusing’ in this situation, as easy to imagine, seemed horribly real as she slipped behind her desk, letting it rest as a shield between them when he got to his feet. Amusement on his lips never matched by his hardened and narrowed gaze, a sigh almost mockingly dramatic leaving him as he gave a tut.

 

“You used to be clever enough to know when you’re beaten.” Carmichael spoke slowly, almost as though spelling out a difficult concept out to a child. Someone who really should know better but clearly was refusing to learn out of choice rather than a lack of ability. “I don’t see why you’re making things so difficult for yourself. Your team is already struggling to see you as someone worth treating like an adult when you can’t get over one little ex.”

 

One little ex. As if he hadn’t been her first love, her first kiss, her first slap. The first person to make her feel worth the stars whilst making her feel like no more than dirt if he decided she should. Everything and nothing in the same moment. It was a skill she almost had to admire, in theory, how he’d managed to make himself at home in her head with such ease and how still years later his little spot in the corner of her mind still seemed to greet him. Dust and insecurities left there refusing to settle now he was here with her.

 

“One little ex?” She mirrored with a surprised stutter, disbelief and something akin to anger flashing through her eyes as she tried to steady herself. “You’re not just some ex. Normal exes don’t… wouldn’t do the things you did.”

 

A normal ex wouldn’t leave such an amount of real scars on her, Jemma ignoring how they seemed to burn away like a corrosive acid even in his presence. Burning at her in a way that she’d almost forgotten, in a way only he could make happen. Like she was going through the glass again, shattering with it under his easy pushes.

 

“Then why haven’t you told them?” The challenge was easy, an eyebrow as he regarded her with disdain. To him it seemed she was just something from his past that had stuck to the bottom of his shoe, catching more and more dirt along the way. “If I’m such a terrible ex that wasn’t just a normal bad breakup why haven’t you told them about it?”

 

She could have if she’d wanted to. She’d certainly had plenty of opportunities since he’d joined to drag aside any one of the team and just tell them. But Jemma hadn’t been able to, hadn’t been able to get the words out or even know what she’d say. What was there to say? Jemma was good when it came to science, yet the idea of having to find words for how he made her feel simply with his presence seemed impossible. Impossible to summarise how he made her feel worthless and lacking, hollower than ever before as well as too damaged to move. Too close to cracking under the pressure of his gaze and terrified by whatever he’d decide to say next. Jemma wasn’t good with those sorts of words, wasn’t good at being able to tell people when she was in pain, when it had gotten so crippling Jemma couldn’t even sleep- slightly more slender than she’d been to begin with. He’d only ever really hurt her physically once and surely it was normal for people to have one slip up?

 

It had just so happened his had ended up being when she was standing next to a glass door which had been at least intended to be shatterproof.

 

“I…” His question lingered, Jemma unable to summon an answer as quickly as she would have liked to. “I don’t…”

Why hadn’t she told them if it was really so important to her?

 

She was frightened. Frightened they wouldn’t believe her, that the little family she’d helped build wouldn’t believe her and would side with him over her. Jemma wasn’t certain she could cope with living through that- with living through gathering the courage to tell only for nobody to listen to her muffled screams.

 

Jemma hadn’t noticed him moving closer until he was less than a breath away, causing a flinch when his hand came to rest on her wrist. “Or maybe you’re just aware there was a reason nobody listened last time you tried?” He moved his hand, a single finger guiding her chin so she’d look at him. “You make things so hard, gemstone. For both of us. Why not just let this petty anger go?”

 

Maybe any other time she would have listened. She would have let his words cause more of a faltering as she recoiled from his touch, stumbling back slightly rather than having the man so close to her. _Petty_. He considered it petty.

 

“You almost killed me.” Jemma snapped out with more heat than she could actually feel at the suggestion that what he’d done didn’t matter. “I have scars to prove what your stupid temper can do!”

 

She had scars to prove the injuries, to show where the damage had been made so much more than skin deep.

 

“You have scars from where you messed up in the lab. As the file clearly says, I was nowhere near the area.” His SO had certainly ensured nobody would listen to her word over his. Carmichael was too much of a rising star to lose because of what he got up to in his own time. There was no missing the dangerous darkening to his eyes. “You’d only be proving your incompetence to them.”

 

Jemma grit her jaw, struggling to know what to say, what to do. She wasn’t incompetent. They knew her, they knew she’d never make such a basic error in a lab. “Or showing them what you’re really like. They’re not like the people back at SHIELD.”

 

Another step back was mirrored by him moving forwards.

 

What were her options? Staying silent over this wasn’t one of them, she couldn’t stay living in this proximity to him. Maybe, just maybe, the team would be more willing to lose him than her and Fitz. Fitz would follow if she threatened to leave.

 

It had to be better than this constant state of fear, Jemma faltering one more moment before shooting to the lab door, heart pounding in her throat as she moved.

 

She’d always been fast, lithe body ensuring that.

 

But she wasn’t an agent, a cry muffled by his hand as she was slammed to the wall. Pain flashing through her head as her vision blurred, finding suddenly his grip was the only thing keeping her up.

 

_Oh God_ , her brain seemed to chant like a panicked mantra. Struggling the best she could with what could very possibly be a concussion from the force her head had hit the wall.

 

She just wanted this to be over. Jemma wanted to feel safe again, not be trapped in a nightmare she’d already had to survive once.

 

 

 

“I’d really recommend letting her go before you lose a hand.”

 

Jemma wasn’t certain out if it was the blinding pain or utter relief at the sound of Ward’s voice that left her wanting to sob.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps it was mean cutting it off there. Perhaps it wasn't. Let me know what you guys thought? Reviews make me write far faster. Plus it's not too late to let me know what you want to happen to Carmichael. x

**Author's Note:**

> Hope that was okay. Next few chapters will be up soon and will contain more interactions. Endgame is Biospecialist thanks to the votes of lovely tumblr people (it won over Fitzsimmons 31:4). This part was mostly for setting up Simmons' ex having to work with the team and a hint at relationship. The next one especially will start dealing with reactions and people starting to see it's more than Simmons being petty. 
> 
> If you guys like it I may even drag this out into a recovery series- it seems both Ward and Simmons will have a lot of healing to do.
> 
> Until then, what did you guys think? Please leave feedback, it means the world to me. x


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